


These Reminders

by talkingtothesky



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1866465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Gene break up and make up, having remembered what's important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Reminders

"Gene, can we please just talk about this?"

 

"If you talked less and lived more you'd be a much happier man, Tyler."

 

Sam had to physically get between Gene and the door, shoving him in the chest with such force he staggered back a few paces. Sam got his hands up ready, because he fully expected Gene to hit back, so he was a little nonplussed when no attack was forthcoming.

 

Gene was...looking at the floor. Sam watched him shove his fists into his trouser pockets. Sam swallowed hard at the sight, suddenly had to blink back tears.

 

He pressed his knuckles to his lips for a moment, closed his eyes. When he opened them again he felt words spill out, taking the opportunity Gene was giving him to speak. "You know...when I _want_ something...when I really, really...if you walk out of here tonight I _will_ fight for you. I won't follow you straightaway if you don't want but you know there's no avoiding me at work, and -"

 

"Sam..."

 

"No, you listen to me. What have I done, Gene? I know we don't see eye to eye on...pretty much anything, but I thought we..." He made a back and forth motion with his hands between them. "That's what we do, right? We're a team. You can't wanna throw all that away on...you won't even tell me why!"

 

There were a few moments of silence, after which Gene said curtly: "Are you done?"

 

Sam breathed out, quick and harsh. It was almost a choked sob. He found he couldn't get any more words up past his increasingly lumpy throat, so he nodded miserably instead.

 

"Right, my turn now, since you insist. It's nothing to do with our work scraps. It's all the other stuff."

 

"Other stuff?" He couldn't mean the sex, surely - they'd been over the homophobia thing months ago and Gene seemed to be moving past it, had been the one making advances more often than not. Sam wasn't a selfish lover, he made sure Gene was enjoying himself at least as much as he was...

 

Gene cut across Sam's anxious thoughts. "All the 'aaah she's come out of the telly again', murmuring stuff about mobile phones and internets in your sleep, Hyde this, Hyde that, it's all so much _better_ in two-thousand-and-sodding-six. I work a full-time job with you, Sam, and then we come home and I've another full-time job taking care of you. Making sure nobody finds out. I can't do it anymore, alright?"

 

By the end of Gene's speech, Sam's jaw was tightly clenched, as were his fists. He felt like he'd been slapped. How _dare_ Gene throw all of that in his face, he hadn't _any_ idea what it was like to go through what Sam was coping with...

 

"You utter bastard," he gritted out, pleased to hear that his voice was now perfectly steady, fury replacing the shock and hurt.

 

Gene shrugged. "You wanted to know why."

 

Sam strode forwards, leaving the doorway free for Gene to walk out, but not before he'd got right in his face and spat "You can fuck off now".

 

Without another word, Gene did.

 

Sam slammed the door after him. Then he sank onto his bed, curled up on his side. He didn't move, or sleep, until morning.

 

\---

 

He called in sick. He'd promised Gene he'd fight to keep him, but for a day or two he just needed to lick his wounds. He was having to seriously consider why he'd even want to try and continue a relationship with such a selfish, insensitive brute.

 

Unfortunately, deep down he knew the answer to that. Over the last four months, Gene _had_ been looking after him, and he Gene. Sam wasn't so scared of loneliness that he couldn't go back to living alone if he had to, but his gut was telling him he'd really rather not. Despite what Gene had said. But he had more self-respect than starting to forgive Gene already, surely? He'd scooped out Sam's every moment of vulnerability - even ones he hadn't known about, how was he supposed to control what he did in his _sleep_ , for Christ's sake? - and fired them at Sam like a weapon. Had spoken as if Sam were a burden, as if Sam hadn't held his hair back and rubbed soothing motions down Gene's spine as he knelt over the toilet, having finally reached his alcohol consumption limit. As though Gene carried no baggage of his own for Sam to deal with. As though Sam didn't spend all day at work reigning Gene in, making sure he didn't do anything lazy or violent or cruel.

 

Annie would...no. He couldn't involve Annie in this. Much as he would appreciate the sympathy, and although she understood the future stuff better than anyone, this was his and Gene's business. If she went straight to the Guv after and told him how upset Sam was, that'd be yet another hit to Sam's pride. Speaking of, holing up in this flat wasn't doing him any favours. As long as he didn't go into the station, he could work this case from interviews alone. He'd only call Phyllis once he'd solved it, and she could pass the message on, Gene could make the arrest, and once again be reminded that Sam was far smarter than him.

 

\---

The day _almost_ went according to plan. Gene and the others turned up at the house just as the recently discovered killer had pulled a knife on Sam. Sam reacted instinctively, and possibly foolishly, but he had knocked the thing out of the man's hands and cuffed him by the time the team had made it from front door to back room. He shoved the bound, snarling criminal in Ray's direction and tried to stalk out, but Gene blocked his way down the grimy hall corridor.

 

"Should've known you'd be here."

 

"Get out of my way, Gene."

 

"No."

 

Sam gave him no warning whatsoever, just punched Gene viciously in the softest part of his gut, let him crumple into the dusty, black-bin-bag-littered carpet. Was out on the street before Gene could finish swearing and get back to his feet. Sam felt a tremendous sense of satisfaction for about fifteen minutes, as he got into an unmarked car and drove off, until he realised he didn't know where the hell he was going. Pub, he eventually decided, having ruled out his own flat, the station, and Annie's place. But not the usual pub. He wanted to get hammered in blissful anonymity.

 

\---

 

The problem (one of many) with 1973 was that pubs were far more of a tight-knit community affair than in the 2000s. He couldn't just walk into any unfamiliar place without attracting a few suspicious glances (and in the case of one bloke, whose gaze lingered on Sam's arse as he settled on the barstool, making Sam feel vaguely disgusted). This hindered his ability to relax, so he moved on after each pint. But after his fourth, he was starting to feel quite full. Combined with his total lack of sleep the night before, and the hard bloody legwork he'd put in today, the effects of the alcohol were hitting him faster than usual. Plus, he hadn't exactly eaten, unless a granola bar from the newsagents at 1.30pm counted.

 

Sam sighed. He'd have to go back to his flat sometime.

 

\---

 

He paused outside the door to number one and listened closely. If Gene was inside - and why the hell would he be? He'd had enough of Sam, he'd said so - Sam could just turn around and go sleep in the car for the night. But he'd be damned if he did that without first checking whether his instincts were correct.

 

They were. Gene looked up at him as the door opened. He was sitting in the chair in front of the fake fireplace, tapping the end of a rose stem against the wooden arm.

 

Sam snorted. _Flowers?_   "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

 

Gene lifted his chin but didn't stand. "It's an attempt."

 

Sam shook his head, closed the door behind himself. Couldn't run, now. Wanted to. But he'd always been a fighter, not a flee-er. "You stupid prick."

 

"I _know_ , Sam, I know." He sounded choked up all of a sudden, and that scared Sam more than any sudden movements Gene could have made.

 

"Come crawling back in less than twenty-four hours, have you?" He couldn't resist rubbing it in. Unfortunately he sank down onto the bed with less grace than he'd like, so the force of his biting comment was reduced.

 

"You're drunk."

 

"Does that disappoint you, Detective Chief Inspector? Must I always be sober enough to cart your sodden carcass safely home?" Sam's mind was returning to the bitter tracks it had travelled along all last night.

 

Gene glared. "That's not -"

 

"What you meant, I know. What you meant is that you're sick and tired of me, 'cause I'm too high-maintenance, you'd prefer a dutiful little wife who does all your laundry and doesn't say boo to a goose."

 

"Sam, please..."

 

"I know I'm not totally _convenient_ for you, Guv, but I can't help it that things out of the ordinary happen to me pretty damn frequently. I didn't ask for this! Any of it! You said I asked for the transfer but that's bullshit, I had no choice in the matter and _you_..."

 

The rose dropped from Gene's limp hand onto the floor. He'd actually slid out of the chair and onto his knees, shuffled his way across the floor until he was crouched by Sam's legs. But Sam continued, the words pouring out, ignoring the way Gene's hands settled on him, one knee, one shoulder.

 

"So, the next time something weird crops up I'll just grit my teeth and pretend it isn't happening, ok? I could be being tortured, helpless in a hospital bed decades away but I'll keep quiet just so you can have an easier life, does that sound fair?"

 

"No." Gene shook his head, eyes wet. "No, that's not fair at all." Gene had released his shoulder and was stroking Sam's cheek now, and it took a great effort on Sam's part not to close his eyes and lean into the gentle touch. It was a good thing he managed to keep them open, because seeing Gene's face when he next spoke was of the utmost importance to him. "I'm sorry. I hurt you and I never wanna do that again. Can we...forget yesterday ever happened?"

 

Sam searched Gene's eyes. It seemed dreadfully unlikely, and maybe he was dozing in a pub right now, wishful-thinking his way out of a shitty day. But Gene seemed sincere, and here he was kneeling at Sam's feet, saying sorry without a hint of sarcasm. Sam broke eye contact, looked down at his lap. Lifted one of his hands and set it atop the hand on his knee, felt the texture of Gene's skin. Then, head still bowed, he smiled the tiniest smile he could manage. "Do you wanna pick up your girly little flower and say that again?" He teased.

 

Gene huffed out a tight laugh, pressed a relieved kiss to Sam's temple. Sam tugged at Gene's shoulders until he got up and sat on the bed next to Sam, then wound his arms around him tightly.

 

Decades away, unheard by Sam, a heart monitor skipped a beat and then beeped steadily on.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Is that supposed to be an apology?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516378) by [basaltgrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltgrrl/pseuds/basaltgrrl)




End file.
